


Family Ties

by Suryaofvulcan



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-03-20
Updated: 2007-03-20
Packaged: 2018-08-16 07:05:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8092390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Suryaofvulcan/pseuds/Suryaofvulcan
Summary: Has Malcolm stayed too long in Starfleet?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

  
Author's notes: I seem to be on a theme of fatherhood at the moment. Marybeth and Charlie also appear in an old story of mine called â€™Marybethâ€™. No beta on this one.  


* * *

Commodore Malcolm Reed allowed his head to roll back and stared at the ceiling of the conference room. He methodically counted the ceiling tiles, then the number of small, diamond-shaped indentations in each tile, and finally calculated the total number of indentations in the entire room, part tiles included. The meeting was *that* boring. Malcolm loved his work in Starfleetâ€™s weapons research division - that is, heâ€™d loved it when it involved actually designing and testing new weapons, but it seemed the higher he rose in the organisation, the more time he was forced to spend in mind-numbingly boring meetings like this one, listening to his colleagues argue over budgets and targets he simply couldnâ€™t bring himself to care about.

He gave himself a mental shake and tried to keep himself awake by calculating the hourly pay rate of everyone around the table, from Admiral Gardner to the secretary who was taking minutes - although at least *he* was doing something useful - adding them together and multiplying the total by the number of hours theyâ€™d spent together in meetings like this within the last two weeks alone. Then, just for fun, he worked out how many live torpedo tests he could run with that money. It was a surprisingly large number. He was just about to reach for his PADD to compose a blistering memo to that effect when he stopped himself. It was futile. They would most likely hold another series of meetings to discuss his proposal to reduce the number of meetings. There was simply no point in adding to the mountain of paperwork Starfleet already generated.

Trip had had the right idea, he thought morosely as his gaze drifted towards the window, absent-mindedly watching the afternoon sun reflecting off the water beneath the Golden Gate bridge. His partner of nearly twenty years had resigned his commission on their return to Earth ten years ago, and had gone into business with Travis Mayweather, adapting warp five technology, under licence from Starfleet, for civilian use. The move had been driven by personal considerations rather than professional ones - Trip and Malcolm had been anxious to start a family, something they couldnâ€™t do in space, and their arrangement meant that Trip could work from home most of the time, leaving the bulk of the fieldwork to Travis. It allowed him to spend a great deal of quality time with nine year old Marybeth, and Charlie, who had just turned five.

A smile pulled at Malcolmâ€™s lips as he thought about his husband, and his mind drifted back to last nightâ€™s lovemaking.

Heâ€™d felt cool air on his skin as the shower door opened behind him, but he hadnâ€™t been alarmed. Heâ€™d been aware of Trip entering their small en suite bathroom, his hungry gaze devouring Malcolmâ€™s naked body as he shed his own clothes. It was date night. At least once a month Malcolm and Trip packed the kids off to a sleepover with their Uncle Jonathan, and devoted an evening to â€¦ adult activities. It wasnâ€™t always about sex - sometimes they took in a movie or a sports game, or shared an intimate dinner - but last night Trip had been very much in the mood to enjoy the physical side of their relationship without the risk of being interrupted by Marybeth or Charlie, and Malcolm had been happy to oblige.

â€œYouâ€™re early, luv,â€ Malcolm had murmured as Tripâ€™s strong arms had wrapped around him from behind. Heâ€™d been showering in anticipation of their date, but he hadnâ€™t expected Trip to be home from dropping off the kids for another hour - Jonathan Archer usually pressed a beer into his friendâ€™s hand and kept him talking for at least that long.

â€œThought ya might need me tâ€™wash yer back,â€ Trip had drawled, his accent thickening as he lowered his head and fastened his lips on the juncture between Malcolmâ€™s neck and his shoulder.

â€œOoh, that would be lovely,â€ Malcolm had purred, leaning back into the embrace.

Heâ€™d watched as Trip reached for the soap and worked up a lather between his hands, and then heâ€™d reached up behind Tripâ€™s head, lacing his fingers into his partnerâ€™s honey-blond hair, drawing him down into a long, deep kiss as the warm water cascaded down their bodies.

Malcolm had been acutely aware of Trip, of his lips sliding sensuously against Malcolmâ€™s own, of his tongue probing and tasting, winding around Malcolmâ€™s inside his mouth, of his scent pervading the small shower cubicle, of his chest pressed tightly against Malcolmâ€™s back, and of his hands gliding over Malcolmâ€™s skin, touching all his most sensitive places, working his way down Malcolmâ€™s chest to his hips and thighs before finally coming up again to caress the cleft between his buttocks.

With a barely suppressed moan heâ€™d leaned forward against the wall, forehead resting on his forearms, and spread his legs. Malcolm didnâ€™t often give up control like this, but after nearly twenty years together he could read his partnerâ€™s moods well enough to know when to simply relax and enjoy having Trip make love to him. Lost in sensation, heâ€™d felt Trip begin to trail nibbling kisses across the sensitive nape of his neck, felt the constant caress of the shower spray on his already sensitised skin, and finally felt two soap-slick fingers reach deep inside him.

â€œOh, god!â€ heâ€™d moaned, his knees almost buckling. His breath was coming in short, shallow gasps, the saturated air barely enough to sustain him, but Trip stood behind him, one strong arm wrapped around his torso, steadying him.

â€œTrip, please, oh please,â€ Malcolm had gasped as Trip brushed his fingers repeatedly against that special spot inside him. He was relaxed, open, ready, aching for Trip to fill him, to make them one. And then the fingers had disappeared, and heâ€™d felt Tripâ€™s hot, thick member nudging at his entrance. Instinctively heâ€™d pressed back, encouraging him inside, his body eagerly accepting the welcome intrusion as Trip pushed deeper.

â€œMalcolm â€¦ oh, Malcolm,â€ Trip had murmured against his neck, wrapping both his arms around Malcolmâ€™s torso and pulling their bodies tightly together. His hands had seemed to be everywhere, fingers squeezing Malcolmâ€™s nipples, fondling his balls, stroking along his hard length and grasping his hips, and all the while Tripâ€™s mouth was on his neck, sucking and biting as he filled Malcolm over and over â€¦

â€œâ€¦ Commodore Reed?â€ The sound of Admiral Gardner speaking his name shook him abruptly out of his daydream.

â€œWhat?â€ Malcolm said, shifting in his chair as he realised that his uniform had grown uncomfortably tight and his brain finally registered that someone had asked him a question. He glanced up to find everyone in the room gazing at him expectantly. â€œEr â€¦ I think thatâ€™s probably something we should discuss in more depth at our next meeting,â€ he flannelled.

Some of the others around the table nodded sagely, and Malcolm wondered if theyâ€™d been as bored as he was.

â€œQuite so,â€ Admiral Gardner said after a short pause, although he eyes narrowed suspiciously as he looked at Malcolm.

Malcolm decided to turn his full attention to the remainder of the meeting. Before he came in his pants.

~~~

â€œHey, Mal.â€ Trip glanced up from his schematics as Malcolm entered the living room of their sprawling family home on the outskirts of San Francisco. Then he laid his PADD on the arm of the sofa as he caught his husbandâ€™s weary expression. â€œCâ€™mere,â€ he said, opening his arms, and Malcolm let out a contented sigh as he sat down and relaxed back against Tripâ€™s broad chest, closing his eyes as Trip pressed a gentle kiss to his temple.

â€œHow was the meeting?â€ Trip said.

Malcolm snorted. â€œInterminable.â€ He raised his head and gazed up into Tripâ€™s clear blue eyes. â€œI donâ€™t suppose Enterprise Industries would have any use for a weapons engineer?â€

Tripâ€™s soft chuckle rumbled through his chest. â€œDepends. Is he any good?â€

Malcolm smiled, as much in response to the love in Tripâ€™s eyes as to his teasing tone. â€œIâ€™ve been told he has a good grasp of the basics.â€

â€œYou know you can join us any time you want, Mal,â€ Trip murmured into his neck.

Malcolm relaxed again, sinking further into the warm embrace. â€œKids?â€ he asked after a few moments.

â€œIn bed. Iâ€™m sorry, but it got so late. They were too tired to wait up for you.â€

â€œOh. Dinner?â€ he said hopefully.

â€œWaitinâ€™ for us in the oven.â€

After dinner, while Trip busied himself in the kitchen, Malcolm crept upstairs and quietly opened the door to his sonâ€™s bedroom. Charlie was fast asleep, his small face the picture of innocence and his fingers clutched tightly around his current prized possession, his replica phase pistol.

A slight frown creased Malcolmâ€™s brow. *I only ever get to see them like this,* he thought. It wasnâ€™t how he wanted his children to remember him - a cold, distant figure seen only in passing. It was the way his own father had been with him.

â€œIâ€™ll do better, darling, I promise,â€ he whispered. He smiled tenderly as he leaned down and kissed the tousled blond head, and then gently prised the pistol out of his sonâ€™s grip.

â€œDaddy?â€ Two sleepy blue eyes peered up at him.

â€œHello, love,â€ Malcolm murmured.

Charlie reached up with both arms and twined them around Malcolmâ€™s neck. â€œYou smell funny,â€ the small, sleep-slurred voice observed.

*Like a stuffy conference room,* Malcolm thought. He lifted his son out of the bed and sat down on it, pulling him into his lap. Charlie laid his head on Malcolmâ€™s shoulder, his eyelids drooping again as he slid his thumb into his mouth, and Malcolm stroked his hair and hugged the thin little body, listening as Charlieâ€™s breathing evened out.

A new presence entered the room and sat beside them on the bed.

â€œYou really are thinkinâ€™ about it, arenâ€™t you? Leavinâ€™ Starfleet?â€ Trip murmured softly so as not to wake their sleeping son.

â€œYes,â€ Malcolm admitted in the same low tone, rubbing his cheek against Charlieâ€™s baby-soft hair. He was constantly amazed by the strength of the love he felt for his children - surprised by the fact that he didnâ€™t just love Charlie and Marybeth, he was *in* love with them. His heart filled with it whenever Charlie crawled into his lap and begged for a story, or Marybeth wanted him to plait her hair or play soccer with her. The more he was with them, the more he wanted to be with them, and yet his work for Starfleet meant he often stayed late at the office and didnâ€™t return home until they were in bed. He was missing so much of family life â€¦ much as his father had.

â€œI donâ€™t want to miss any more of them, Trip,â€ he said at last. â€œOr any more of you.â€

Trip slid his arm around Malcolmâ€™s waist, and his voice was husky when he spoke. â€œI know how much you love beinâ€™ in Starfleet, Mal.â€

Malcolm shook his head sadly. â€œNot any more. I loved exploring space and defending my ship and my crew. I even loved working in the weapons development lab here on Earth, but now that Iâ€™m involved in administration â€¦â€

Trip squeezed him gently. â€œWell, you have my support whatever you decide to do.â€

â€œI know.â€

â€œCâ€™mon. Letâ€™s get our baby boy back to bed before he chills.â€

As they tucked Charlie back into bed Malcolm reflected on the course his life had taken in the couple of years since his last promotion, and on the last twenty-four hours in particular. Perhaps it was time to rethink his priorities. Perhaps he had been blindly following the path heâ€™d always assumed his life would take. Perhaps he had found something more important than his career in Starfleet.

As he followed Trip back downstairs he allowed a small smile to pull at his lips. He felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. There really was only one decision he could make.

 

~the end~


End file.
